The grounds are swamped with people. Conversations, music, screams and shouts echo through the air. There are stalls set up everywhere. Food. Activities. Everything. I don’t remember much from last orientation because I was stuck in my own little world the whole time, but the atmosphere is jovial and it’s difficult not to let the buzz settle into your system.
“All right, let the games begin.” Jamie grins.
“Are you quoting The Hunger Games right now?”
He winks at me. “May the odds be ever in your favor!” he says in a perfect impression of Effie Trinket. El bursts out laughing and I can’t help but join her. I shake my head and pull out my phone. Two messages.
Tilly: Judy had her baby today. I’m officially a big sister. :) I miss you Madz!
I smile and text back. That’s so cool! But you already were a big sister. I miss you more.
I open the next text from Jack and laugh.
Jack: Hi.
Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten an eight-year-old a phone. He wastes all my money on credit and pointless conversation.
Me: Go to school, Jack. I’ll ring you tonight. Give the girls a kiss for me. Love you.
Jack: Gross & k.
Now I really laugh. “Who’s making you so happy? I need to get some tips.” Jamie swings his arm over my shoulder and peers at my phone.
“My brother and sister, for your nosy ass information,” I say and shove him off me.
He arches an eyebrow. “Right.”
“Oh, look, there’s Jenna.” Ellie waves, and we follow her.
Jenna’s dressed head to toe like she’s ready for a night out. “You guys coming to Kobe’s party tonight? It’s over on Long Island at his parents’ house.It’s going to be the biggest one yet.”
“Hell yeah, we are,” Jamie says.
She squeals and starts clapping. “Yay! It’s eighties themed so make sure you wear something bright and hideous.”
Someone walks past blowing a trumpet. I turn around to see a marching band pass.
“Maddy! Maddy!” Jamie shouts over the roar, and as I’m turning back around to face him, a person through the hordes of people catches my gaze and triggers a memory of someone that I try hard not to think of. I shake my head and glance at Jamie. “What?”
“Did you hear that? Eighties party tonight. Do you know what that means?” His face is so bright it’s difficult not to feel his excitement.
“What does that mean, Jamie?” I say flatly.
“Color!” He laughs. “It means color.” He points to my outfit and I groan. His attention quickly goes back to the conversation and for some reason, I pause and look over my shoulder once more. In that moment, I glimpse the person who has been taunting my thoughts every second of everyday for the past seven months. The months which have been some of the hardest and longest of my life.
I blink repeatedly. I have to be seeing things, I’m in a state of shock. He cannot be here, he’s supposed to be in jail, across the other side of the country, but as I close and reopen my eyes, his tall frame, light brown hair, and green eyes pierce mine even from afar. The swarm of butterflies which have been caged in the same cell are released. My heart pulsates and my mind spins.
Every day for the past seven months I’ve told myself, I'm fine, I’m okay, and every time I did, I was one step closer to fooling myself, but as I look up and meet his gaze, I know, there is no fooling my heart.
It swells for that deep gaze burning back into my own.
Kingsley
My heart stills the minute her eyes lock on mine, and all I can think is: Fuck.
Acknowledgements
To Matt, my number one supporter. Thank you for always believing in me, encouraging me, and loving me. You are my world. I love you. To my girl, T.L Martin, no words can describe my tremendous amount of appreciation for your support, critiques, and friendship. This book wouldn’t be without you. To all my other beta readers who have helped me along the way: Adrian Hibbard, Charity B (who helped with the book title), Meghan Richardson, Sarah Collingwood and Grace Li. To my soul brother, Beej. Your endless support, humor, and motivation gets me through the weeks. To Maggie for always believing in me, Caro, and Bridget for your encouragement to release my books even though you don’t read. ;) To my family—my backbone. To my sister, Taylor Armstrong, who forced me to put her in my acknowledgements: thanks for letting me bombard you throughout the day with questions. To my kick-ass designer Carmela Diaz, you are amazing. To my editor, Monique, thank you for putting up with me. I am so grateful I have you on my team. To everyone at Koru House Press, thank you. To you, my readers, who I can’t wait to get to know and grow an amazing relationship with.
And finally, to everyone who said I couldn’t.
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Stolen Songs Page 27